On fatherhood

About 18 years after I started appapappa.wordpress.com to write about fatherhood, Nika has turned 18!

Nika got a small tea-cup & saucer of her own today, and so she joined us for a family cup of tea!

Noyonika sings our National Anthem:

You will have the last laugh,

while I grow in my insanity.

They say the Lord created the world

In just a week, you see.

“Why don’t you go and get a beer?”

Why can’t I go to sleep?

Why does the Earth go around and round,

Ever increasing in entropy?

Staying true is so hard, especially

When you can’t even see

Faking it is so easy now –

Come, give in to mediocrity.

They say the means justify the ends

They say don’t fly too close to the sun.

They say “Go and chase your dreams, as you please –

But just the modest ones, son,

Just the modest ones.”

Watched a bunch of movies on the flight back, only a few stood out:

1. The Blind Side – based on the book by Michael Lewis, the story of Michael Oher captured beautifully on film. Sandra Bullock does a fine job. Must watch.
2. Harry Brown – Michael Caine acts really well in this portrayal of the gangs of London. Watchable.

The flight back was long, tiring, and it has taken me a week to recover!

It was Noyonika’s first day of nursery yesterday. I felt a tinge of sadness as we dropped her off at school. There were a few new kids bawling. Nika stood to the side of the room, looking about, wondering who these kids were, why they were crying and why she couldn’t see her old teachers. She looked a little lost, and looked a little grown up.

My first day at school isn’t anything to be proud of. I still remember parts of it, though it might have been embellished in memory by Mamma telling the story multiple times to me. Mamma came to school to drop me off, and I howled, bawled, cried and wailed (I used to be a big crier!).

I remember being at the park in school, and there being (in my memory) a hill nearby – but thinking about it, it probably was the sports area in school, for which there was a set of steps leading downward, and next to it was just a untarred, sloping area of earth.

Mamma dropped me off with the teacher (was it Mrs. Fernandes?), and the teacher walked me down the steps, while I howled “tipple thee one zero” – 33310 – our home phone number. We finally got down to the sports area, and I remember feeling a pang of loss. My crying finally subsided, and as I looked about, I caught a glimpse of Mamma, standing at the top of the “hill”.

That did it – I spied my route to escape, and threw all caution to the wind and ran up the hill, while the teacher possibly was hot in pursuit! I don’t remember getting to Mamma, but I know I did. I went home early that day, since I couldn’t possibly be consoled to go back to school!

Memories of that day came back seeing Nika go to nursery, and I felt a tug at my heart saying “She is a baby, why are you sending her into the big, bad world?”

(Posting this from the Seattle airport, which finally has free wi-fi!)

Have you ever had unknown friends? People you’ve met each day, people you’ve laughed with & sighed with, but whom you have never said a word to? One of the things I cherish about my time in Seattle that I enjoy re-living each time I visit is the 8:45 – 9:05 drive to work, listening to Kirsten Kendrick, Dick Stein & Laxmi Singh on 88.5 NPR and All that Jazz. Like the best of friends, you count on them being there every day, you worry if they don’t show up some day & you just like listening to them.

My favorite show of course is the 2 minutes of “Bird Note” from 8:58 – 9:00 am, the tune for the show being something that Kanchuki & I liked trying to copy out loud. We would both then listen with rapt attention to the show and then talk about how it was “Not so good today” or “I didn’t know that”!

I still remember when I moved back to India, I had made a list of dreams for my move back – and on top of that list was to start a public radio channel like NPR, a dream still unfulfilled.

I end up watching a lot of movies & reading a lot of books whenever I’m away from home, mainly because of the long flights and the jet-lag. Here’s my list for this time:

Movies:

• Shutter Island: **** : Martin Scorsese & Leonardo DiCaprio (one of my favorite actors) team up again. One of the most deeply spooky movies I’ve seen (rating it at #2 after “Silence of the Lambs”).
  
• Wake up Sid: ***** : 5 stars! A happy movie. I like happy movies!! Liked the acting, liked the story/narrative, liked the music – watch it if you haven’t.
  
• Dr. Strangelove: *** : I remember liking the movie much more the first time I saw it, but found it painful this time in parts. Still is one of the great dark comedies of all time, but a tad tedious.
  
• Eastern Promises: ** : Didn’t like the movie, found the story winding and not tight, and the violence was kind of pointless.
  
• Up in the air: ** : Expected to like the movie; I like most George Clooney movies. However, again, I didn’t connect with the story.
  

Books: haven’t read all of these yet, but am half-way through all of them! All 3 seem promising – I’m especially excited about Tinkers, which won the Pulitzer this year.

• The non-designers design book
  
• Problem solving 101 : A simple book for smart people
  
• Tinkers
  

I am a poor flier. Flying trans-continental flights & being in transit in airport lounges are perhaps my two most hated things – and they go together! Here’s my itinerary this time –

• Hyderabad – Abu Dhabi, Etihad Airline: 4½ hours
  
• Layover in Abu Dhabi: 4 hours
  
• Abu Dhabi – Chicago, Etihad Airline: 15½ hours
  
• Layover in Chicago – 3 hours
  
• Flight delayed by – 2 hours
  
• Chicago – Seattle, American Airline – 4 hours
  
• Stay in Seattle – 4 days
  
• Head back same route!
  

When I’m flying, I’m crabby, irritable, neurotic and on edge – I deal with the uncertainty & ambiguity by being (too) early for my flights, (too) detail oriented (I check my tickets every 5 minutes to see if they’ve changed!) and (too) anal-retentive (I ask the attendant if the flight is on time each time I check my tickets).

The sleep-deprivation and venti coffees don’t help. Traveling on well-worn routes and airlines help – the familiarity of airports and procedures eases the tension and confusion.

This time, I was on a new route (I usually go through Europe), new layover airport (never been to Abu Dhabi before), a new airport to enter the US (Chicago – I usually go direct to Seattle) and a new airline (I usually do Lufthansa, this time it was Etihad). This added greatly to my misery and grief.

What are the fears I have when I’m flying? Here’s an (incomplete) list of my neuroses:

• I’ll miss my flight (eh, lowball of neuroses)
  
• I’ll be allowed to board a flight that isn’t to my destination (“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard the flight to Tuvalu”)
  
• There will be a terminal change at the last moment or I got the terminal number wrong (“The flight will now depart from Gate 32 instead of Gate 7 – in 5 minutes”)
  
• I’ll be deported at immigration (“Sir, you will need to fly back tomorrow. You can sleep in the terminal.”)
  
• I’ll be asked for papers I do not have at immigration (“Where is your wife’s birth certificate?!”)
  
• My bags will not arrive (especially bad when you aren’t through checked-in to your final destination)
  
• I’ll pick up someone else’s bags (remember “Eight heads in a duffel bag”?)
  
• I will suddenly find large quantities of liquids in my hand baggage (“You will need to either dump or apply that 1 litre bottle of moisturizer right now, sir”)
  
• I will be sitting between two really fat people (this happens often. The associated fantasy of being seated between two beautiful women who want to talk never happens!)
  
• The airline will be out of the “Asian Hindu Veg Meal” that I ordered, and will only have unlimited portions of Crab & Shrimp.
  
• I will fall down the steps from the aircraft and lose my memory (and my passport), and will wander aimlessly in an unknown airport for the rest of my life, scavenging cold airline food for leftovers (high bar of neuroses)
  

Love song from my deathbed

We walked a road,

Together one day –

But now we head

Our own sweet ways.

I’m giving you my soul

To keep alive,

‘Coz I believe

That I’m taking my life.

I’ll see the world

Through your beautiful eyes

And this I know –

That you’ll ever be mine.

My corporate heart

And my no–foolin’ lies

Mean the child in me

Will never survive.

Please my love,

Keep going your way

My desires and hopes

Are meant to die.

Or maybe it’ll be

That in your smiles

My every dream

Will come alive.

Nika was doing some mischief this morning, and I was watching her from the corner of my eyes. I said “Nika, stop doing that – don’t you know that I have eyes at the back of my head, and I can see the mischief you’re doing?”.

So she looks at me patronizingly and says, “Deutu, you have eyes at the back of your head? So, you are not a human being? See, I don’t have eyes at the back of my head, because I’m a human being.”

I dislike precocious children.

…she hangs-up the phone on her imaginary friends! Nika’s conversation today:

Nika <picking up her toy phone>: “Haan Dora, yes, yes. I am your friend, OK?”

After a pause: “Excellente! I am busy, OK? You call me later on. Ya, ya, please call back!”

After some time, coming to me: “Deutu, this Dora keeps calling me!”

After a pause, looking at her phone & then looking at me – “It’s Dora, I won’t pick up the phone, OK?!”

Honest truth – Kanchuki or I never do that, so where did she learn that from?!

Anyway, that firmly put Dora in her place – I’m not expecting a call back from her anytime soon!!

The last two weeks in Hyderabad have been blistering hot.

When I was growing up, this was the kind of heat where you would find a shady spot & flop down, lazily contemplating whether to lift your hand to swat the fly that was buzzing about. It was the kind of heat where you sat in the water-tank on the roof of your house all evening, till the skin on your toes were pale and wrinkled. It was the kind of heat where you sat below a fan and ate mango after mango without a sense of time passing. It was the kind of heat where you drank lemonade, Roohafza,
Rasna (or if you were rich, Orange Tang!) and lots of butter milk (despite the fact that you were eating curd rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner!). It was the kind of heat where you went on long and humdrum summer vacations to your grandparent’s house. It was the kind of heat where you worried about power cuts, and when there was a power cut, you rejoiced at how you could sleep on the terrace, cursing the mosquitoes and telling ghost stories to each other till eventually falling asleep.

However, the times-they-are-a-changing, and even the heat has to change with the times! Nowadays, it’s the kind of heat where you sit in a cold A/C room and complain about how the A/C is not effective. It is the kind of heat where you have many a cold shower, and try to catch a swim before it gets too hot. It is the kind of heat where you go out to eat ice-cream, rushing from the A/C in your house through the burning furnace outside to the A/C in your car. It is the kind of heat where you drink cucumber-aloe vera or watermelon-ginger coolants (I know who will be reading this today! :)). It is the kind of heat where you pack your kids off to summer camps and activities, ensuring that the school has air-conditioning so that your kids don’t get heat-stroke. It is the kind of heat where when there is a power cut, you break out into buckets of sweat and curse how the watchman is taking time to turn on the backup power!

It is indeed ironical that for a generation so focused on success, we do our best to break the basis of that well-true adage – “Success is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration”!

With an increasing pace of life & advancements in technology, we’ve stopping adapting to the environment & enjoying what we have, and instead we look for ways we can live outside the environment & have low patience for an environment that doesn’t meet our needs.

Remembering times past is quite pointless (the view currently in fashion!); I do however feel a pang of loss for long and lazy summers when the heat made time pass slower, and every bead of sweat that burst from your skin was excruciatingly filled with the details of your life.

Nika told me this evening “Whatever I want to do, I’ll do, OK? You don’t tell me what to do all the time.”

“Stars in the dawning, stars in the quiet night,

Stars in her hair, and in her bright eyes;

Stars everywhere, and unto the stars I fly,

I swallow the sun, and quench the moonlight.

The sun burns a fire inside my soul,

Thoughts sacred and profane, lurid and bold

I swallow the oceans to drench the flames cold

The galaxies fade dark, I’m a black hole.”

The evening was hot and dry, about 54 Celsius, unusual for January in Bangalore. Partho walked in the dimming light towards the Last and Loneliest Tree, trying to push the angry thoughts out of his head. He needed to sit down, and push out the ancient yet still-fresh thoughts of jealousy and confusion that continued to rage in him. He had to get his mind in control. If he continued to let his emotions sway him, it would be yet another trip to the psych.

Partho’s head throbbed, images and words of their break-up still fresh in his mind. He walked faster, trying to push away the violent thoughts that were crowding together in his head. He started into a trot, beads of sweat running down his face. Suddenly, Partho swayed, retched and leaned for support against the façade of a store. Partho’s knees felt weak, and his mouth was parched. He licked his lips, and adjusted his glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose. “How could she?” the question remained unanswered even thirty years later.

He pushed himself up, chastising himself for his puerile behavior, and he forced himself into a strained and slow walk. Soon, his nerves won over his mind and he was once again striding towards his destination. However, as he approached the Jacaranda tree, a beggar approached him and held out his arms in front of Partho and said,

“Jo tum khoj rahe ho, woh is samay mein nahin hai;

Jise tumhari talash hai, woh taaron mein kahin hai.

Yeh zindagi jeene ka mantar kya hai?

Ishq aur maut mein antar kya hai?”

Partho stood still, shocked. Those words were unknown to him, yet something in them soothed him. He reached into his pocket for some loose change, but the mendicant was gone. Partho looked up, and the world seemed a different place, calmer and quieter. His own mind was more at peace, in an introspective mood, as though it had been engaged in some deep mystery, and the angry thoughts of just minutes ago disappeared into a dark recess in the labyrinth of his brain.

On a hunch, Partho turned around, and started back towards his car that was parked two blocks away. Something told him that the tree needed to wait, that he had to be home instead.

-*-

Anya woke with a start. “What a strange dream”, she thought, “I always have the strangest dreams when I sleep in the evening.” She poured herself a glass of water from the jug near her bed, and drank it to clear the metallic after-taste of the cyclopraxtin. Indranil had asked her to not take more than 1 pill a day, but she was already overdosing 4 pills. She would have to make a trip to the pharmacy soon with another fake prescription.

“Indranil,” she called out, “I had the strangest dream. Where are you, come here.” Her husband walked into the room, carrying two steaming cups of tea. “What dream?” he asked.

“Well, you know the library near our house. Well, I was in the library, reading a book.”

“When did you go to the library?”

“Arre
yaar, in the dream. I was in the library, reading a book, a biography of Einstein, you know the scientist from Ma-Earth. It was a really fascinating book, so I checked-out the book and was leaving the library, when this beggar-man came up to me, you know, just like how it used to be in the old country.”

“Wow, you really are having trippy dreams – are you doing too much cyclops?”

“No baba, I’m just doing what you said. Anyway, in the dream the beggar handed me this piece of paper. It said, ‘Call me in the evening, the number is 22602728. Ask for Argus Bookstore. We need to go on a long journey, a nautical journey.’ I looked up, and the beggar was gone.”

“Wow, what a detailed dream, sweet-heart. Chalo, call karte hain, its evening now.”

“What, are you out of your mind? It was just a dream.”

“No, no, let’s call, it’ll be interesting. What if there actually is an Argus Bookstore?”

Anya rose from the bed, and reluctantly picked up her mobile. She knew that it was no use protesting, that Indranil would himself make the call if she didn’t. She dialed the number, and put the phone on speaker so that Indranil could listen in. The phone rang many times, before it was picked up and a familiar but breathless voice said,

“Hello?”

“Is it Argus Bookstore?”

“No, my store is no more,

Who do you want, may —”

“The store is no more, did you say?”

“Yes, the store closed 2 years ago.”

“Damn, who am I speaking to?”

“Partho, my name is Partho.”

Anya collapsed on the floor, the phone rattling out of her hand. Partho, could it indeed be her Partho?

-*-

Partho sat near the Last and Loneliest Tree, the last tree in Bangalore. It was an old Jacaranda that had surprised everyone by weathering the changing monsoon pattern and the growing heat to remain as the only surviving tree in Bangalore.

Partho, of course, knew the real reason it had survived. It was here, under this Jacaranda that he and Anya had met on so many days after work, where they had made their vows to marry and where they had broken up. This tree was the last symbol of their love, the one thing that kept Partho sane in a mad and changing world.

Thirty years. It was a long time since they had broken up. He had been 27, a gifted artist, madly in love with Anya, his muse, his genius, his demon. She had been 25, a successful trend-hunter, in love with Partho, her poet, her musician, her lover.

It had been perfect. That is, till the climate started changing dramatically and all scientific efforts had been channeled towards finding alternate sources of energy, finding ways to control the climate, finding ways to colonize the planets and ways to travel at close to light-speeds. Finding alternate sources of energy or ways to control the climate had failed. Then, the breakthroughs: an aircraft that could travel near light-speed and an Earth-like planet just a few light-years away that could be colonized.

Anya had been thrilled – a trend-hunters perfect dream, a new planet to explore. They had fought daily, bitterly, for weeks – how could she even think of going to the new planet when he was here, on Earth? They had broken up then, beneath their Jacaranda tree.

He had missed her terribly, but he had resolved to not call her. She missed him even more, but all her work on researching the new planet and planning her trip there kept her busy for months. She did everything to make sure that she would be on the first civilian flight to New Earth – till they rejected her application on grounds of her psych test coming back as negative.

She was devastated. Her dreams of reaching for the stars had been shattered in a cruel twist of fate. She had always been confident, had been strong, had been fast and clear-headed – but her psych test results were unambiguous. She was unstable, unsuitable for space travel.

In times of despair, she had always turned to one person, the person she hadn’t called for months. Partho welcomed her into his house and shared her despair and gloom. They made love like they had once, and resolved to stay by each other forever. He fussed over her, pampered her, and when he found her psych reports, he had referred her to his close friend, Dr. Indranil.

Partho recalled the moment clearly still, with all the jealousy, pain, confusion and anger that had followed. Anya had called to meet him near the Jacaranda tree. That’s where she told him,

“I am marrying next Tuesday,

And leaving for New-Earth. ‘Thank you’,

You have been too kind to say

those words to. True,

I love you madly,

And will ever do.”

-*-

Anya dry-swallowed another cyclops pill, it helped keep her calm – she had just spoken to a ghost from the past, and God knew she needed the medicine. Partho – he must be in his late fifties now – she had spoken to Partho. She was still just thirty-one, thanks to the wonders of near light-speed travel.

She still loved him. She knew that in her heart, that she had never stopped loving her crazy Partho. She liked Indranil too, and had grown fond of him, but he had never roused the same wildness of passion in her that Partho had.

Indranil had been a convenience, her way of chasing her dreams to New Earth, of being the first trend-hunter to set foot on this place and report back home the wonders of a new colony. Even after all the years of travel and the four years here, her mind told her that she had made the right decision of leaving Partho to chase her dreams.

She was still the best and most successful trend-hunter, New Earth had been everything it had promised, Indranil was kind and loving as ever – why then did she feel an emptiness?

Should she call Partho again? The number floated in front of her eyes, 22602728, urging her to call.

“Partho, it’s me, it’s your Anya.”

“Partho, it’s me – from the stars, your Anya.”

“Partho, do you recognize my voice – it’s me.”

No, she wouldn’t call. That would just be unfair to him – after all these years, who knew how he had changed? He probably had married, had kids and settled down. She felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, and smiled, for she knew the irony of her thought.

The days turned to weeks, her cyclops consumption increased to 6, her research showed that Partho was still single and she grew more restless, more certain about what she wanted to do. There was only one thing to be done – she had to find him again, she had to meet him, she had to say how sorry she was for all the good times that she had left behind. She knew it was a ridiculous idea – it would ruin her career, it would upset Indranil, and when she got back to Ma-Earth, Partho would be in his eighties. But there was nothing else to be done.

So she did it. Just like the time before, once her mind was made, she knew it could not be changed. It was a long flight back – only three of her years passed, but thirty passed on Ma-Earth. She landed at the Bangalore spaceport, the sweltering heat and the artificial greenery serving as a reminder of the reasons she had left.

She was surprised at how little the city had changed – she drove confidently towards their Jacaranda tree, after which she would go and surprise Partho. She got off the car at the Last and Loneliest Tree, and broke down into tears.

The Last and Loneliest Tree had died. Where once there had been a blossoming Jacaranda in the Garden City, there now was the husk of what once used to be a tree. Anya got back into her car. It would be a long journey back to New Earth.

Nika photoshoot as she jumps on the bed happily 🙂

Truthfully – no embellishment – I was driving Nika to her school today, and she sat in her car seat at the back scribbling on her Doodle Pro (Fisher-Price’s gift to parents across the world J). I went over one of those humungous speed-breakers and Nika says “Deuta, don’t move the car so much”, I ask her “Why?”, and she says “If you move the car so much, what will happen to my masterpiece?!” I couldn’t believe my years, and so looked behind and asked “What did you say??”, and she says “If you move the car, what will happen to my masterpiece? It will become very bad, do you want a bad painting or a good painting?”

Still in a state of happy shock, where did she learn that word & know how to use it?

Nika is very excited about the Tiffin Box I got for her. She now wants to eat every meal in her Tiffin Box! Here’s a picture of her Tiffin Box for her school today – PBJ sandwich, Cheeselings, Olives & Cheese – what more could anyone want for a snack?

Noyonika was very tired last evening. She had a long day – swim in the morning, school for 3 hours, walk back home in the sun and then play all afternoon with Zoya. When I got back at about six, her energy was still high and she was jumping about, playing happily.

Then at about 7:30, her energy started to fade, and she got really cranky. She threw a tantrum for no reason (because I asked her to drink up her soup), lay down for five minutes to gain some energy, went back to playing with Zoya, fought with Zoya, came to me for support and finally flopped down on the bed and said “I want to have a glass of milk!”, a sure sign that she was sleepy.

As a child, sleep is an enemy to be fought with tenacity – you may give an inch, but that is only so you can get up and get back into the fight. Nika got back up in about 15 minutes, and started to play again with Zoya, alternating between happy child and cranky child.

Finally, at about 9:15, she came and sat down and had dinner, eating quietly without fuss (too tired to fuss!), quietly letting me change her and saying “I want Bournvita” and drinking the entire glass without a breath. I stepped out of the bedroom to say Bye to Zoya & Rija, and when I got back Nika was fast asleep.

I mussed her hair, and gave her a kiss – she gave a deep sigh, an angel. The recuperative powers of sleep worked their ways; they would turn my angel back into monster in about ten hours.

Seeing a bone-tired child sleeping, breathing deeply, drooling and lost to the world – for a neurotic insomniac like me, this is envy.

Each time I spend a few days with my daughter, taking care of her, I feel very privileged to be a parent.

I didn’t believe it would be this way, before we had a child. We imagined it would be tough, and it has been that, and more. We imagined we’d be happy, and it has been that, and more. We’ve thought – “Why would anybody do such a crazy thing?”, and we still ask ourselves that each day!

Exasperation, tears, disgust, happiness, anger, joy, laughter, fear, pride – all the emotions, every day, every hour even maybe! What more could one ask for from life? Who else can provide this but a child?

It rained heavily yesterday. Here, a summer thunderstorm can turn an atheist into a believer. The skies were bruised, filled with purple thunder clouds and the red earth that the raging wind had whipped up. The evening was very dark and quiet, except for the scythes of lightening followed by the angry rumbling of thunder.

Noyonika and I hurried home. I was driving carefully, hoping that the car wouldn’t get stuck in the river that the familiar streets had suddenly become. She was quiet too, the sudden outburst of rain calming her incessant chatter. At home, the hall was flooded – we had left the balcony door open. The power went off and on, off and on, till finally our apartment’s backup power finally ran out.

Nika and I went to bed early, at about 9:30, chatting in the dark. We both dozed off, till I was woken by a cool breeze. The storm had stopped just as suddenly as it had started, and the sky looked spent, calm, a deep shade of blue. I went back to bed, and slept deeply.

This morning, the temperature had dropped from the fiery forties to the torpid thirties. The first thing Nika said when she woke up was “Let’s go for a swim in the little pool downstairs!” The weather was balmy, lazy – warm, yet with a smell of water in the air and a cool breeze blowing. It reminded me of Bangalore.

So, we’re sitting here by the little pool downstairs. Nika is in the pool, splashing about. I had received very clear instructions about how she wanted her blue swimsuit (and not the black), how I should pick up her tube and a question about “Why you don’t know that the blue slippers are swimming slippers?”

She is saying “I’m not scared, I’m not scared” as she kicks her legs and makes her way across the pool, her way of beating her fear. She kicks water into my notebook (these pages are covered with blue splotches of ink) and says “I’ll throw water into your notebook!”

She talks constantly, “Why Deutu? Why Deutu? Mere ko tandh lag rahi hai. Deutu, give me a surprise, I kicked my legs, give me chewing gum. Ma will be very happy when she comes back. Deutu, you know if the pool is dirty it will be gandagi!” I lie by the side of the pool, scratching her words into my book.

She wants me to look at her all the time when she is swimming and starts to shout “I’m a big girl, I’m a big girl.” I ask her why she is saying that and she says “If I say like that, then I don’t feel scared.” She goes around the little pool, gaining confidence, saying “I’m only a little scared now”, and she gives me a few minutes to write.

When she comes back, she says, “Duetu, do you know if you fall into the pool without the tube, you’ll die?” I say “Who told you that”, and she ignores me and asks “Do you know what will happen if you die in the pool?” I reply, “No, what will happen?” She says, without a sense of irony, just plainly stating a fact “Everyone will laugh that you died in the little pool.” I wonder where she learnt about death, and a little part of me dies, my baby girl has become big without my knowing.

On some days, writing is hard. It isn’t like I have run out of ideas, but, like today, the mind seems to be in a different place, tired, sleep deprived, unwilling to cooperate, a sullen child. I constantly stop, not in a flow, a stuttering old engine, pausing to frame words that aren’t there, a dry well.

Sleep is important – it makes your brain feel like a well watered patch, ready to bloom with ideas. Then again, if I slept more, when would I write? So, I wake up at odd hours, scratching and scribbling, like a smoker lighting his pipe, starting slow, hoping to get one long and uninterrupted drag that will give me the bliss of mindlessness that I am writing for.

I watch my daughter sleep in the morning light

Her left hand is raised, as though in protest,

Her body twisted sideways, head awkwardly on the pillow.

The thumb on her right is flopped near her mouth,

The skin puffed, poached. A line of spit is caked on her chin.

Her chest and stomach rise and fall in a steady rhythm,

And her eyes are closed calm, oblivious to the world around her.

Tatha: Noyonika, will you give me a lollipop?

Nika: Tatha, give me money!!

<context> We taught N how to buy a lollipop. “Nika give shopkeeper money, Shopkeeper give Nika lollipop.” </context>

Go to sleep my baby, baby
Close your pretty eyes
Angels are above you
Peeping through the skies

The great big moon is shining, shining
The stars begin to peep,
It’s time to go to sleep my baby
Go to sleep, my baby.

Noyonika calls me Deuta – at least that’s what K has been trying to teach her.

Deuta means Dad in Assamese; I’m sure Di-dhi, Te-tah and Thi-thi don’t mean anything in any language, but those are approximations of what Noyonika actually says!

(OK, I admit it – maybe she’s just making noises and not actually calling me!).

Now, I just call her the Devil. She’s become really bratty & mischievous – she points at things & screams at the top of her voice to indicate she wants it (mostly at food!), she switches on the music player and dances to the music (yes – really!) and she beats K & me if she doesn’t get what she wants (I’m scared of her punches!).

So, here are two pics of Deuta & the Devil – thanks to Bodhi for excellent photos, taken during our recent Phoenix trip.

Imagine if the small things, the things we take for granted each day, were magical once more!

Take walking, for instance. Something so natural that it doesn’t even cross my mind – but each time she walks, it is a joyous jaunt for Noyonika (who has just started walking about more).

Stepping, swaying, walking, weaving, bobbing, bouncing – step after step, each one its own little adventure, filled with mystery for the walker (does the left leg alternate with the right, or can I do this just with my left leg alone?!) and the walkee (there she falls, no, just a sway, ah now, she going to bump her head, wow, escaped, she’ll surely trip over her head now, nope, got lucky, there she comes for the final stretch, it should be easy, ohhh!).

And when she does make the entire 10 foot hike, the smile of accomplishment on her face & the squeal of joy – simply the most precious thing in the world.

I haven’t posted anything in 3 months now & haven’t really posted anything regularly since November ’07.

Mostly, I think it’s because of being pre-occupied & in gloom over how I’m not having a good year at work (at least in my mind!).

I was talking to K about this the other day – about how things get into a virtuous cycle when you put in the effort (you work hard, you learn more, people come to you as the expert, your pride in work grows, your role increases, you work hard and so on…).

However, since Noyonika was born, spending time with her & Kanchuki was more important to me than working hard, and that virtuous cycle didn’t get set up at work. Now, dont imagine for a moment that I would have rather worked hard than spend time with family. Absolutely NOT – every moment with Noyonika & K is precious to me.

However, things sometime dont play out the way you’d like them to. What I found was that by not working hard, while I had more time to spend with Noyonika & K, I wasnt able to spend the time with a carefree mind – unresolved & unattended items from work stayed on my mind, and I just wasnt myself. I was just cranky & sullen! It turned out that the days I worked hard, I spent less time with Noyonika & K, but I was happy & was fun to be around… what a paradox!

Anyway, for now I’ve decided to going back to working really hard… it may mean less time at home, but at least I wont be a wet blanket when I’m around the people I love the most! And you never know – I may just end up blogging more as well (who knows what 2nd order effects working hard may have?!)

From Aswin, really funny: http://www.makememinimal.com/2008/instrucciones-para-cuidar-un-bebe/

Well-fed and warm. Sipping on coffee.
Decades have passed since I felt any pain,
Or seen the sunken cheeks of penury in my mirror.
Stirred by no emotion, no woe weighs my mind.

Well-loved and cared for. Contented.
I sit in happy chair, scratching pen on paper,
Coaxing tales of passion and courage, or even a poorer harsh reality
to flow in words of Indigo, like a gushing stream from a broken dam.

The words, pearls! The language, exquisite!
The pace is a-trot, the description, a picture.
Prose and dialog intertwined, married to be one.
But story, sorry story. Nothing wrong, nothing right. A mirror.

Step-by-logical-step. I try again. And again.
Colorful, beautifully parceled sawdust, each time.
No muse nor magic helps. I look to the mirror and she says,
“A gelded mind fills but not even a gilded pen.”

Kanchuki, Noyonika & I went to Hawai’i for 9 days… photos at: http://flickr.com/photos/appapappa/sets/72157603495042365/

I really like LibraryThing.com – here’s my library of books at http://www.librarything.com/catalog/appa

Its been a while since I posted about how Noyonika is doing – she’s grown a lot in the last few months, started to babble multi-syllable nonsense (graduating from single syllable nonsense) and grins foolishly a lot. For the last couple of days she’s been having a terrible cough, which the Dr.’s say is Brochitis – Kanchuki & I are feeling down in the dumps since she’s been coughing for a while, but we didn’t take her to the Dr., as she seemed so happy & was eating normally and was behaving like her usual self every other way. 

Anyway, here’s 3 different small posts about her –

Appa taking care of X

Kanchuki was on a business trip last week for 3 days to San Diego, and so I got to take care of X by myself for 3 days – it was a lot of fun, since my baby daughter is really easy to take care of.

The first day went perfect – dropped her off at her daycare, picked her up in the evening, fed her cereal/milk and put her to bed. But then she woke up at 5:15 in the morning and kept looking for her Ma with a puzzled expression on her face – she played till 9:00 in the morning with me happily, I guess assuming that her mom was just out somewhere.

On day two, I picked her up early from daycare and we went out together – there’s nothing like a baby to draw women to talk to you & so me and my accessory went out to Redmond Town Center and hung about in a coffee shop. Now, my daughter clearly loves attention (just like her mom! :)) – she gives the most winning smiles to complete strangers, and laughs and giggles at them too! So, the two of us ended up getting a fair share of coo’s & smiles and “Oh, she’s beautiful, how old is she?!”‘s. She went to bed late on day 2 and woke up early too – I guess she was missing K by now.

Day 3 was quiet – dropped her at daycare, picked her up and she went to bed early since she hadn’t slept much the night before. Kanchuki returned at 10:00pm that night and later when X woke up she was all grins to see her Ma by her side again!

All in all, it was easy – Kongkona (Kanchuki’s sister) was the most worried, followed by the grandparents, but then they don’t know what a fabulous dad I really am 🙂

X’s report card!

X got her first report card from the daycare – it was so amusing. I’ve always been telling K that when she goes to real school, the thing I want most is for her is for her to flunk every subject and be the terror of the school. Now, back to her report card – it’s divided into different sections & she gets a grade for each section, followed by overall comments from the teacher – this is how she did:

• Social/Emotional:
  • Evident/Demonstrates consistently – smiles frequently, resists toy pull
  • Needs more development – works for toy out of reach, plays peek-a-boo, plays pat-a-cake, drinks from cup
•  Physical:
  • Evident/Demonstrates consistently – Follows objects with eyes, has head control, grasps rattle, reaches, turns over, sits on her own, has thumb-finger grasp
  • Needs more development – feeds self finger foods, pulls up and stands on her own
•  Intellectual:
  • Evident/Demonstrates consistently: Discovers hands, laughs, coos, babbles, responds to voices
  • Needs more development: Responds to different noises, shows interest in different sounds/music
•  Comments from teacher: Noyonika has grown so much! She moves herself on the floor and is learning everyday…

Well, from how she’s doing – she doesnt look like she’s on track to become the terror of the school & flunking her grades 😦 !

Baby names

Of course all babies get their share of names they get called by. Kanchuki is especially notorious at coming up with different names for X, and I’m not much better – so our daughter is always confused since she’s never called by the same names twice. Also, the mood determines what name is used – is she playful, sleepy, naughty, being bad or just wanting some attention determines the name she is called by… here’s a smattering of baby names X is a.k.a – Tatumi, Tatuma, Dhanuma, Dhanoosh, Putuki, Katuma, Majaan, Jaanjoni, Putuka, Munuka, Kuttu, Kuttuka – these are her “normal” names. Her obscure names include – PV Narasimha Rao (when she finishes her dinner and pouts in satisfaction!), Mr. Jiggy (origin unknown), and the secret GGRKB (she’d die of shame if the name were ever made public!)

A bath in the sink

Originally uploaded by appapappa

Look at this little monkey having a bath in the sink!

X in Red Mill Burgers

Originally uploaded by appapappa

Red Mill Burgers has the best veggie burger in Seattle!

Two beautiful women

Originally uploaded by appapappa

Kanchuki & Noyonika at Phinney Ridge on a beautiful sunny day

I’ve been really busy working on this project for the last few months – it’s been keeping me away from K&X too long, working on…. well, work.

But the project is now coming to an end, and I’m looking forward to the next few months: with things slowing down I can get back to the things I find easier & more enjoyable at work – working closer with people & working on research & planning. Also, vacation time is coming up with Thanksgiving & Christmas – and I’m looking forward to the break, when I can spend time with X, read and perhaps blog more regularly!

X is growing up – she’s almost 7 months old now, can sit on her own (once sat up) & plays peek-a-boo. Will post pictures soon.

OK, now for the 2nd part of the post title (and this is in no way a reflection of where I am) – I came up with this definition of mid-life crisis that I thought you’d enjoy – “A mid-life crisis is when you stop looking for the life and start looking for a life”.

This is a photo of me with Akka, my grandma. She passed away last year, at the grandold age of 90-something. She was one of my favorite people – kind, mischievous and full of laughter.

Now, nostalgia is a funny thing – Akka always used Johnson’s baby shampoo to wash her hair; now, when I give X a bath and I smell her hair, it brings back to me my fondest memories of Akka (silly stories, tomato rasam & her famous “healthy wealthy” blessing whenever anyone would leave home :)).

Noyonika 001

Originally uploaded by appapappa

My lil tennis star. K & I have been going for tennis lessons & playing a lot of tennis – we try and take her along, so she can learn & better us in a few years :).

OK, I know that sounds just like a pushy parent, and that’s not me, so I’m going to stop!

My birthday

Originally uploaded by appapappa

Happy birthday – X was looking very sweet in her yellow hat!

At Ballard locks

Originally uploaded by appapappa

K, X, me at Ballard locks

Dinner time

Originally uploaded by appapappa

So, what should I have for dinner? (near Mt. St. Helens, 9/1)

Sitting X

Originally uploaded by appapappa

When made to sit, she wobbles like jelly and then falls over in about 30 seconds! 🙂